The wages of sin is death but so is the salary of virtue, and at least the evil get to go home early on Fridays.

I'm not really good at fun-to-know, human interest stuff. We're not 'celebrities', whose life itself is a performance. Good or bad or ugly, we are our words. They're what people meet.

Now that their long war was over, they could get on with the proper concern of all civilised nations, which is to prepare for the next one.

Soon to come in licorice, orange, cinnamon, and banana, but not strawberry, because I hate strawberries.

People needed to believe in gods, if only because it was so hard to believe in people.

But the purpose of the book is not the horror, it is horror's defeat.

Up until now I'd always though RSI meant 'I hate my damn job'.